


Attachment Theory

by skepticalshoulderpads



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2019-02-11 16:38:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12939357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skepticalshoulderpads/pseuds/skepticalshoulderpads
Summary: Mulder and Scully are finally on the same page. Sequel to ‘Phantom Pains’





	Attachment Theory

Sometimes, Mulder forgets that the X-Files existed before Scully. He knows they did, has the case files to prove it, but he can’t quite figure out how he ever got anything done without her. It’s not that she does all the work, or that he’s overwhelmed; he just can’t seem to function without her there. He used to spend his holidays poring over old, forgotten files until late in the night. This year, he spent a solid two days trying to find the perfect excuse to interrupt her family Christmas. Something paranormal, so that it could conceivably be a work-related call, if she was willing to give him some leeway. Something that would make her laugh. He’d found just the thing, in the end: a ridiculous man-eating Icelandic cat. She’ll make fun of him for weeks for that one.

Of course, that meant that when he’d returned to the office the next morning, he’d spent the entire day flinging pencils into the ceiling and daydreaming about her laughter, her breathy voice over the phone, how happy she’d sounded to hear from him. He’d had grand ambitions of cleaning before she got back. That would have impressed her, and these days, “impress Scully” is at the top of his list of goals, right up there with “find The Truth.” He can’t decide which is a loftier ambition, or which one he is more obsessed with. 

With nothing of value accomplished in her absence, Mulder settles on distracting her. He stops at a trendy little café on his way into work, arms himself with a box of cute little pastries and a latte for Scully. A soy latte, no less. It won’t taste nearly as good as the creamy, sugary mocha he orders for himself, but he’s pretty sure she’ll be so impressed by his sudden health-consciousness that she won’t notice the stray #2 pencils littering the floor.

By the time he arrives at the office, she’s already there, engrossed by something on her computer. Seeing her after so long (well, four days, but it feels like a month) very nearly takes his breath away, and he has to make a concerted effort to play it cool. “Scully, long time no see.” He breezes into the office, depositing her coffee and the baked goods in front of her, grinning as she immediately takes a long drink. He memorizes the contented look on her face, stores it away for later.

“This is good. What is it?” she asks, taking another sip. She licks her lips, then, and Mulder has to avert his eyes before he loses the ability to hold a conversation.

“Soy,” he replies, just a little smug. Nailed it. 

“I’m impressed you even know what soy milk is, Mulder.” Not quite what he was aiming for in his Impress Scully quest, but she’s smiling at him over the cup and her voice is warm and happy so he’ll take it. “This is perfect,” she continues, diving into the box of pastries. “I won’t feel bad about eating all of these.”

“Hey, some of those are for me,” he objects, making a show of hustling over to take his pick. Really, he just wants to be nearer to her, to envelop himself in the light that seems to radiate from her very being. Shit, he’s getting sentimental. It’s embarrassing, really, how much he missed her. Four days apart, and he’s craving her presence like a junkie. He can’t believe there was ever a time, no matter how long ago, no matter how short-lived, that he wanted to drive her out of this office. He was a goner by the end of that first case in Bellefleur, even if it took him a few years to realize it.

She looks up at him then, maybe to say something, to laugh at his appetite for junk food, but there’s a bit of foam on her upper lip and it takes every ounce of his willpower not to kiss it off. He settles for wiping it off with the pad of his thumb. She doesn’t break eye contact. God damn it, he’s going to be thinking about this for the rest of the day. Tomorrow too, probably, and most definitely tonight. And he thought he was distracted by her absence. 

It’s all downhill from there. There must be something in the water, or maybe the soy milk, because Scully is uncharacteristically indulgent, listening intently as he chatters aimlessly about everything from a potential Bigfoot sighting in Montana to his thoughts on the upcoming baseball season. He watches her, more boldly than he typically dares, and she watches him right back, sometimes giving him a mysterious little smile before looking away. He’s almost positive she’s wearing a new bra. He isn’t a total pervert (although he certainly doesn’t try not to notice these things, not anymore), but after years of traveling together, you pick up on certain things. He’s seen her undergarments in suitcases, hanging to dry in the bathroom, tossed across cheap motel furniture after a particularly exhausting day, and his ever-practical Scully has a strong preference for sensible cotton lingerie.

Today, though, he caught a glimpse of lace, peeking innocently out at him from the gap between the buttons on her pretty silky blouse. The knowledge haunts him. He wants to lay her down across his desk, spread her out and examine exactly what she’s hiding beneath her prim little suit today. Maybe she’ll let him, in the spirit of scientific inquiry. He can’t imagine any research more pressing than taking inventory of her curves, cataloguing all the unexpected spots that make her gasp and curl her toes, discovering if her panties match that awe-inspiring bra. 

In the end, it’s Scully who makes the first move. They’re walking to the parking garage together, his hand reunited with its favorite spot at the small of her back, leaning in just a little closer than is professional. “Do you want to come over?” she asks, and the question would be almost innocent if it weren’t for the hint of tongue darting out to wet her lips. “We could catch up on some work, order in some food.” There is no work to catch up on, at least, nothing pressing enough to require after-hours attention, and no excuse has ever been more transparent, but he plays along. 

“Sure, yeah. I’ve got some ideas I’ve been meaning to run by you.” Ideas about how to make her come, maybe, but he leaves that part out for now, because they have to keep up pretenses, because he doesn’t want to spook her, because he’d much rather show than tell.

They drive back to her apartment separately. Mulder speeds the whole way and it is the longest car ride of his life. He clutches the steering wheel so tightly his fingers cramp, has to remind himself to breathe. Nearly forty years of life are under his belt, and he doesn’t think he’s ever been so keyed up. He’d been angry at himself, once, about the depth of his need for her, but he understands now. He never stood a chance, never should have tried to fight it, never should have wasted all of this time. He is never going to deserve her, but he won’t stop trying.

She’s already waiting for him when he finally arrives, leaning against her car and looking as poised as ever, her haphazardly-parked car the only clue that she might be just as frantic as he is. They walk in together without speaking, stand away from each other as they wait for the elevator. As soon as the doors shut behind them, Scully is on him, arms locked around his neck as she cranes up to press her mouth to his. Well. She always was a go-getter, his Scully. And with one hand cupping her neck and the other on her ass and his mouth full of her tongue, he really can call her his now. It feels right. He’s been hers for years, after all.

They reach her floor far too quickly, and he briefly contemplates the logistics of getting her into her apartment without breaking apart. She pulls away, though, a sly smile on her swollen lips as she grabs his hand and leads him out of the elevator. This is nice too, Mulder decides, Not as nice as kissing her, but the feeling of her soft little hand in his makes his heart clench.

She fumbles for her keys, and not a minute later he has her pressed up against her door, his tongue back in her mouth, his hands back on her body. His cock is unbearably hard in his pants, straining upwards as Scully’s hand begins to wander lower and lower. “Jesus,” he groans, exhaling heavily. “You don’t waste time, do you, Scully?” She traces her hand back up to his chest, feigning innocence.

“We can slow down,” she says sweetly, pulling back ever so slightly, quirking an eyebrow. “I brought some autopsy photos home, we could take a look at those.” He should have known she’d be a tease, he grabs at her waist, pulling her back against his chest with a growl.

“Not exactly what I imagined when I fantasized about us playing doctor.” He kisses her again, letting his hands roam over her hips and ass before hoisting her up into his arms. She gives a little gasp of surprise before kicking off her heels and wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. He needs to get them to the bedroom, now, or they’re never going to make it, and he’d really prefer that their first time together isn’t up against a door or on the floor. Not that he’s opposed to either idea, but he’s a romantic at heart. 

He sits her down on the bed and takes her in, flushed cheeks and disheveled hair and glassy eyes, and it’s all so much better than his wildest fantasies. “C’mere,” she murmurs, reaching out her hand to him and pulling him down. She kisses his forehead, his nose, and finally, his mouth, and it’s sweeter, slower than before. Some of their initial frenzy has died down and he’s glad for it. He wants this to last.  
Her blouse is the first thing to go because he can’t go any longer without seeing the entirety of the bra that has occupied a great deal of his mind for the past several hours. The sheer, creamy lace is just a shade or two darker than her skin, and absolutely nothing about it is practical. He’s torn between ripping it off her and making her keep it on all night. “Did you wear this for me, sweetheart?” He palms her breasts through the fabric, delighting in the way her back arches and her nipples stiffen.

“For Skinner, actually,” she retorts, nipping at his ear, “but he’s still on vacation.” He chuckles darkly, pinching a nipple in retaliation, and she makes a strangled little noise that he definitely wants to hear again. He lets his hands play at her breasts a moment longer before moving downwards, making short work of her skirt, followed by her pantyhose. “Mulder, be careful, those were expensive,” she whines as he drags them off of her, and he placates her with a kiss to her ankle. He has half a mind to rip them just so he can take her lingerie shopping. 

To his delight, her panties do indeed match her bra, and he can’t resist placing a kiss on the damp crotch before moving back up. She lets out a shuddering breath, and he loves her like this, loves seeing her composure slip all because of him. She tugs at his tie and he helps her pull it off, tossing it somewhere behind him. She struggles with the buttons on his dress shirt before giving up halfway down and tugging it over his head. “Impatient,” he teases, and he moves his thigh between her legs, grinding it against her before she can point out his hypocrisy.

“Oh, God,” she whimpers, pushing back against him, and he can feel how wet she is through his slacks and she is going to leave a wet spot on them and oh, God, indeed. He stares down at her hips for a minute, or maybe it’s ten, mesmerized by the way they move against him, by the auburn curls that are just barely visible under her panties, intoxicated by her scent. When he looks up again, she’s unclasping her bra and bringing her hands up to cup her breasts. 

He means to tell her that she’s beautiful and incredible and that this is the hottest thing that he’s ever seen, but all he manages to get out is a strangled whisper of fuck. She gives him a mischievous little smirk and begins to play with her breasts in earnest, putting on a show for him. Jesus Christ. 

She’s grinding against his thigh again, making all sorts of pretty little noises, and suddenly, watching isn’t enough. He steals a kiss from her lips before trailing downwards, nudging her fingers out of the way to suckle at her nipples, trailing kisses down her tummy and nipping at her inner thighs. He pulls her panties off, slowly, inhaling deeply as she is revealed to him. “You’re so wet for me,” he sighs, awestruck as he settles between her thighs, and it’s such a cliché thing to say, but he can’t believe that this is real, that she truly wants him, that this is so much better than anything he could of imagined.

“Mulder, you’re staring,” Scully murmurs, sounding a little nervous and a little exasperated, squirming underneath his gaze. He grasps her hips, holding them in place, planting a gentle kiss on her thigh. 

“Do you want me to do something else?” he asks innocently, dragging his eyes up her body until they meet hers. She pouts, threading a hand in his hair and trying to push him down. “Use your words,” he teases her, tracing a finger around her thighs, her labia, everywhere but the place she wants him. She chews her lips, grinds her hips uselessly against the mattress, tugs at his hair. He wants to hear her say it. 

“I want your mouth on me,” she says finally, and it’s not quite as specific as he was hoping for, but he’ll let her get away with it today. He can’t deny her anything. He goes to work eagerly, rolling her clit beneath his tongue before darting away again, dipping into her opening and lavishing her folds with attention. When he glances up, her eyes are shut tight, lips parted, the hand that isn’t in his hair clawing desperately at the sheets. He’s drunk off of her, from her taste, from the heady sense of power born from being able to make Scully come apart like this.

She screams when he pushes a finger inside her, begs when he adds a second, and he can tell she’s close. Her fingers are wound so tightly in his hair that he might have a bald spot before this is over, but it’s worth the risk. He slows his fingers, pulls back, wanting to draw this out a little longer, and she groans in frustration, bucking her hips against him. “Mulder!” she whines, and what follows isn’t entirely coherent, but he’s pretty sure she’s cursing him. He curls his fingers inside her and plants a firm kiss to her clit and she comes undone, kicking and screaming and sobbing her pleasure. 

He crawls back up her body, petting her hair and peppering her face with kisses as she recovers. Her hand finds his and squeezes and he is so, so in love with her. She smiles up at him, then, and he wants to capture this moment and live inside it forever. 

“Take your pants off, Mulder,” Scully says, her smile turning playful, and Mulder is genuinely surprised that he has made it this far with his dick in his pants. He scrambles out of his slacks and boxers, and at Scully’s reproachful look, manages to tug his socks off, too, before he climbs back over her. But she has other plans, and before he knows it, she’s pressing his shoulders back and rolling him onto his back. As usual, she’s the one with the good ideas, he realizes, appreciating the view as she straddles him. He brings his hand up to stroke his cheek and she plants a wet kiss on the pad of his thumb before sucking it into her mouth. Yes, this is a very good idea.

She grinds herself over him, and his need to be inside of her become extremely urgent. His hands find her hips and he tries to get her to sit down on his cock, but she pulls up, shaking her head. “Use your words, Mulder,” she taunts gently, raking her nails over his chest, rubbing herself over his cock with just enough pressure to drive him out of his mind.  
“I’m going to fuck you,” he declares, tightening his grip on her hips. “Stop teasing or I’ll roll us right back over and fuck you into the mattress, but I need to be inside you now.” Scully gasps, and he can feel her wetness dripping onto him, but she does as she’s told and finally, finally sits down on his cock and Mulder sees stars. She starts to move, her fingers finding her clit, and it takes all of his effort not to come right then and there. 

He sits up then, overcome with the need to be even closer to her, resting his forehead against hers as his hips snap upwards. “I love you, you know,” Scully sighs, and he kisses her deeply, clutching her to his chest. His hand joins hers at her clit, rolling it between his fingers, and she comes again, quieter this time, burying her face in his shoulder as she trembles. He’s not going to last much longer. She clenches herself around him then, and he tumbles over the edge, crying her name as he rides it out.

It isn’t until later, when they’re curled together under the covers and just on the edge of sleep, that Mulder remembers. “I love you too,” he murmurs in her ear. “I didn’t say it back, but I do.”

Scully laughs, snuggling in closer. “I know,” she says, smiling lazily up at him. “You were a little busy.” And he laughs too, kissing the top of her head.

“It’s too bad we didn’t figure this out earlier,” Mulder muses. “I could have kissed you under the mistletoe at the Bureau Christmas party, given everyone a fantastic scandal to gossip about.” Even though her face is turned away, he can practically hear her roll her eyes.

“Maybe there’s some still up. We only missed Christmas by a few days, you know.” And a few days late or not, it’s by far the best Christmas Mulder has ever had.

They don’t find any mistletoe at work, or anywhere else, to Mulder’s disappointment, but he’s always been adaptable. Midnight on New Year’s is at least as romantic as mistletoe. Watching the ball drop on a grainy hospital TV isn’t quite so glamorous, but he kisses her anyway, soft and sweet. The world doesn’t end.


End file.
